SOPHIE, SAL, JENNA and I are two G&Ts down, sitting poolside in the sun at London’s Shoreditch House, delighting in the chance luck of our impromptu meeting. However, this isn’t a lazy Sunday afternoon, or indeed a Saturday night, but 3pm on a random Monday; my first such Monday as a freelance journalist. I had duly accepted the invitation from my pal Sophie, a self-employed interior designer, to join her, armed with my MacBook, for a full day’s work at a private members’ club, with the promise that we would have a well-earned drink at 6pm, at the end of ‘office hours’. It hadn’t quite worked out like that.
Fast-forward two weeks and, having vowed to stay away from friends and private members’ clubs, the impetus to get out of…